Bedtime Stories
by Yautja's Blooded Pet
Summary: Hoary loves children and when a sleepless night keeps one of his own up into the night, he does the only thing he knows! Written for a Free Company challenge. :)


This was written for an FC contest held by Mognet in Midgardsormir! I enjoyed writing it and it took me a good...well. . Several hours went into this one.

* * *

Hoary Boulder was an adventurer by trade, but during his time with the Crystal Braves, he had been promoted to teacher somewhere along the way. Somewhere deep in his giant heart lay a special softness reserved for children and he'd never admit to how positively delighted he was to attend to his post. After the Braves fell from treacherous schemes and vile ilk, Hoary found himself desperately holding onto his little charges, doing his best to keep both them and the lady F'lhaminn safe.

Tonight was another night full of dangers that the adventuring company marched forth to face and naturally, Hoary was gently sending the children off to bed. Yozan complained, as the child was wont to do at night. If it were up to him, he'd be found sleeping atop the guard walls waiting for everyone to come home. The Roegadyn chuckled once more and passed an exhausted Coultenet, who drew the short straw and had to usher the little ones into the bath. Hoary would feel bad for him, but challenge builds character!

As the giant quietly ambled away from the sleeping quarters, which was a feat by itself since he was in full plate armor, he came to the astonishing sight of a concerned kitchen maid furiously fraying the hem of her apron with worried hands.

"Higiri!" Hoary nearly shouted, for a moment forgetting the hour. "What are you doing up so late?"

The girl in question nearly fell off of her stool in surprise at the boom of the self-proclaimed Rising Stone Guardian's voice. That was never good for a ninja. Hoary half expected for a plate or bottle of mulled wine to be thrown in his general direction.

It had happened before.

"My apologies Mr. Boulder…" the lilt of the young woman's voice softened into a weary murmer, tired lines suddenly breaking the curve of her smile.

Hoary took a seat beside her, seeking a decent position to rest his weight. There were "XL" size stools that the lady F'lhammin purchased just for supersized clients but he didn't feel like wandering to the back to fetch one.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Hoary was known for many things, tact not being one of them. Coultenet however, was not here to take charge and handle the more "delicate" conversation.

Higiri sighed and shook her head, laying her jaw squarely atop folded hands.

"I'm worried, as always. I thought I'd be able to help when Lady Yugiri told us of the people that had taken us in but here I am again. Waiting and worrying."

Hoary nodded sagely, understanding his companion's ire. The pain of taking injury in conflict with one's companions paled considerably to the agony of worrying about the company from afar and it seemed that the same crew was always left behind at the Stones.

"Come…" the giant intoned softly, "Gather your things. I know what'll help."

* * *

Hoary mentally patted himself on the back and beamed as he took his seat, the reading chair pulled up firmly beside Higiri's futon. The girl in question hid under her coverlet for some strange reason. She must not be accustomed to bedtime stories. Shrugging, Hoary sipped on a mug of tea to whet his throat and sat back to think of the story he wished to tell. Higiri didn't have any requests and was mildly flustered for whatever reason, so Hoary would just have to surprise her. She needed a good story, one about overcoming obstacles to great victory! She needed something hopeful and… perfect. As his bed-time-ee was much older than Hoary's usual participants, this story should suffice.

"It took many moons to get this story out of Black, but believe it or not, he was in quite a fix some time ago…"

* * *

Black's days were filled with a chill that had nothing to do with Ishgard's ever present snow. He was numb and empty, pasting a false smile on his face in the presence of others that never reached his eyes. It seemed for all intents and purposes that Black was fine with in the midst of the events that shaped the world. Words of his continuing deeds blanketed the nation and Ser Aymeric was more than reliant on the warrior's steadfast presence in his life.

He kept busy between working for the Noble House of Fortemps and searching for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and yet still, few noticed his ever-present gloom. Not that he would have it any other way.

In the nights whilst Tataru and Alphinaud took to their own chambers, Black found his bed devoid of rest or solace. He had taken to preparing a cup of cocoa and sitting out on a balcony overlooking the Brume, listening to the ever-present echo of clinking armor as patrol units kept eyes on the streets and sky.

The chocolate tasted of ash in his mouth. There was no task or company to keep his ghosts at bay, merely the shadow of the task once more laid before him.

Ser Aymeric asked the Warrior of Light to stand fast with Ishgard and participate in a friendly bout that was sure to raise the morale of the people.

Would that Black would have the right to stand there in _his_ place.

The male set his mug aside, unable to take another sip. There was no comfort here, no shield from the snow falling on his nose. No warmth for the empty void that had taken residence in Black's soul. Another should be standing at the frontlines, raising his sword and bringing hope to the troops during these times. Another should be smiling, always effortlessly smiling at the head of this charge. Oh how Haurchefant would have loved this chance to test his mettle against the Grand Companies of Eorzea!

Black grit his teeth and fled inside, eager to check the binding on his Grimoire. Selene snored gently on top of his weapon of choice, her wings twitching with each exhale. The warrior felt his frustration and anger leave him in an exhausted breath as he watched his tiny little charge sleep on his nightstand. It would be a long, long night.

* * *

Black had no idea how long the night would be, or how he would feel standing in the House Fortemps armory. He intended to march onto the battlefield and be done with the entire matter but Emmanellain just had to….

Before Black lay a glass case with a very familiar suit of mail. Harchefant's armor rested on a mannequin in a place of honor amongst the house, beautiful and terrible in that it still had his blood dried to the tear where the Lance of Light had pierced his friend through. Beside that case, on a dressing table lay another suit of armor, intended for _Black_.

The scholar in question choked out a pained sob before lifting a gauntlet reverently. His armor did not bear the markings of House Fortemps foot soldiers, nay, his armor bore the crest and color of the Fortemps Noble family.

Haurchefant's colors.

With shaking hands and an aching chest, Black tested the fit, fumbling at first to remove his own glove in haste.

Perfect. Of course it was.

He had become engrained in this family, so to that Artoirel told him once that he would be written in the annals of their history. He loved each and every member with a passion that somehow surprised him. It felt so hard to love after _he_ died.

But Gods, did he ever remember how much he loved them in this moment.

Deft hands automatically pulled and twisted ties that held his Dogi closed, the brilliant white of his usual uniform dropping from his shoulders. The crisp air, despite the hearth blazing ever brighter coaxed shivers across his back, bumps rising the longer he stood vulnerable to Ishgardian air. Piece by piece fell from him without care or worry for the cold until he stood naked in the low light. Not a single part of his armor, even his undergarments were suitable for wearing under Ishgardian mail. Everything but his grimoire would have to be replaced.

That idea left a strange feeling of satisfaction, perhaps excitement in Black's once hollow breast.

Carefully the Scholar bound his limbs, minding to the lessons he learned at Haurcefant's side. The first time he wielded a sword, the first time he bundled for light movements in the snow; all of these things were learned in Coerthas at his comrade's side. He wrapped his body tightly to insulate him from the chill that the mail would not hold back and to remove friction that could leave welts and burns. The doublet was heavy, but Black lifted the chainmail effortlessly over his head in a motion that could be misconstrued as practiced, the padded liner underneath adding color to his chilled pallor.

Taking far longer than any knight of Fortemps would, the Warrior of Light walked through the Steps of Faith, down to the Gates of Judgement where his companions waited, pride growing with every step. Thancred was wrong. He wasn't here to solve the problems of the Ishgardians for them, he was not here for grandstanding or to get more involved in the affairs of state. He was here for his family. The family that Haurchefant left him, the very family that his beloved left for him to guard.

Even Ser Aymeric was breathless in the face of Black's proud determination when he took his place at Emmanellain's side. It was his duty to guard his brother's flank, after all. The entirety of the Eorzean alliance could not move him from this side and a bounding joy crept up in anticipation for the fight to come. Breathlessly he remembered; this was what it felt like to be alive.

As the group commander proceeded to remind the assembled forces about the rules of engagement, Black took this second to close his eyes. He could see Haurchefant, sword drawn and bubbling with excitement, jarring Emmanellain's shoulder and damn near bouncing into the fray before the signal was even given. Oh, how he wouldn't be able to resist such excitement!

Black smiled, mirth stretching his eyes and bearing his fangs. How long has it been since he remembered him in this way? Emmanellain drew his sword and on reflex, Black flipped open his grimoire to the first page of his most non-lethal hexes, carefully inked on each delicate page. If he had his way, Ishgard would lose no points in this struggle. If he had anything to say about this engagement, Ishgard would be the victors this day!

And then the whistle blew.

Black immediately had to duck a blunted arrow, the company archers immediately signifying him as the most lethal target. Two lancers heading for him were intercepted, one by Lucia and another by a Durendaire shield-brother. Emmanellain had already taken a harsh blow to his shield-arm and the challenging marauder was giving him no quarter. Aymeric darted into the fray trying to reinforce the left flank only to take a blast of thaumaturge fire from beneath the legs their Roegadyn protector. Black grinned. Aymeric was not used to challengers so tiny and could disappear between the bodies of their comrades.

Smiling, the Scholar threw Selene into the air, trusting her ability to keep Aymeric at his fighting best while he darted towards Emmanellain who was taking not only the Marauder but a Wood Wailer and tall Flame Pugilist at the _same time_?! Was this the same boy that he and Haurchefant rescued cowering from the Vanu Vanu?

Black flipped to a different page in his grimoire and traced his finger along a well-worn pattern in this book, aether from his fingertip shaping into a healing spell before flinging it toward his brother. Emmanellain surged with more fervor and force, refreshed from the relief the spell gave his muscles. Taking a marauder's axe to the arm was one thing, the pugilist was another matter entirely.

Black would never forget exactly how Master Hammond's fists felt upon his chest.

Back and forth the Warrior of Light flit between combatants, stoking the fires of his tiring companions and blessing them with aetheric shields to reduce force from enemy blows. Selene silenced enemy mages and healers, providing opportunities and openings for Ishgardian fighters. Soon enough, it was time for Ishgard to push against the line forward, just long enough for Selene to bless the party with a fey wind that revitalized each soldier on the field.

As the first two Grand company tether bearer's fell, the Ishgard tether finally landed on Lucia, who was already backed into a corner. Black leapt behind enemy lines, spewing a (mostly) harmless miasma into the air. The forces pursuing Lucia considerably slowed, desperately trying to scrape the toxic gel from their armor whilst trying not to breathe it in. Pippin was one of the many shaking his leg in disgust, bunny hopping across the snow trying to protect himself. Black would have laughed had he the breath to do so.

Ducking underneath an enemy Elezen fighter, Black spun about his heel to bolster Lucia's sword-arm, flooding her with enough aether to help keep her ground. Triumphant shouts reverberated in his ears as Emmanellain barreled over an enemy conjurer like a pissed pieste, solidly knocking the young man out of the fight. With Lucia's combatants thinned, everyone heard Aymeric's cries, "ISHGARD, TO ME!" Whirling about on his feet, Black once more covered the trail in miasma and wrapped about to Aymeric's side.

But in that moment, the tether snapped firmly unto Black's armor. He glared fiercely into the crowd, waiting for his challengers to see the Flame General Raubahn smirking directly at him, also tethered.

"I have to admit…" the General called out to him, "I was hoping for this!" With a shout and a heaving strike from his massive sword, the area burned in a circle of flame, repulsing Black's comrades from his side. Selene tried to rise above the fire to Black's side just as the circle lifted into a protective dome, holding her outside.

Black's face rose into a vicious smirk, tail flicking in excitement. He couldn't help the bark of laughter that flooded him, sheer joy filling every ilm of him. Haurchefant would have loved this. Single combat with the flame general!

"I hope you don't expect me to take it easy on you!" Black finally had the breath to shout against the wind, ignoring his friend's exclamations wondering as to his wellbeing. The hand that clutched his book trembled in excitement and slowly the aether flowing through his body reversed in position. Visible energy roared through to his hands as he adopted a battle stance more suited for harm than healing.

Raubahn's textured laughter roared against the crack of the flames that surrounded them. He had longed for this moment!

Black found no warning in the General's stance before the man charged, proudly portraying the bull he had claimed to be. Black gladly took first blood, biotic poisons striking the man's chest before his charge was finished. Black dove to the side, expecting to fall away from Rauban as he shifted and was surprised to see the General right in his face.

There was no helping it. Black steeled his body for the blow he could not avoid and found himself launched into the fire. A simple roll in the snow on re-entry quelled the flames, though Black could feel the hair on his tail singe. As soon as he found his feet again, Raubahn fell upon him, gracefully hefting his giant weapon into surprisingly delicate and accurate strikes. It was a dance between them now as Black ducked and twirled, fingers stroking the pages of his grimoire to shape his energy into countless poisons to slow and eat away at his foe's strength.

When Raubahn retreated to summon pillars of flame, Black took the time to cast a lengthier spell. If the Flame General wished to fight with fire, he would receive heat in return! Black raised the temperature of the air, sending waves of blazing heat to broil the general's skin, holding back just enough to keep from maiming him. Raubahn, in true fashion shook it off and charged again, seeing his flame pillars rendered ineffective. Once more Black could not avoid the strike and found himself launched into the fire. He breathed in smoke as he laughed in turn. He had not been thus challenged since Ravana!

Diving forward, the Scholar shifted his stance long enough to take control of the battle field, a bubble of aether surrounding the inner circle. Neutral, healing aether restored his tail, lungs, and the minor gash across his chest. Once more did Black shift into a combative stance and he fashioned his palm into a singular strike intended to drain his opponent. Raubahn danced away and summoned his flames, leaving Black no choice but to retreat back to his corner. The resulting bullet of hungering fire left the Miquo'te scrambling and rolling into the snow to move out of the blaze's path.

Finally Raubahn charged once more and Black dropped his grimoire to brace his body, leaning in to weather this one assault. He stretched forward like a lion and caught Raubahn's strike, the blade digging into the palm of his receiving hand but Black did not falter! With a punch to make Master Hammond proud, Black responded in a lunge of his own, driving his fist deep into Raubahn's face, leeching his remaining energy and knocking the man clearly to his knees.

The energy field fell, no longer able to sustain itself. Black cradled the hand he almost lost in that foolish charge and doubled over in infectious, bubbling laughter. The air rushed from his lungs as the General wheezed, laughing too from his pattern of breath. The Eorzean company lies defeated! But Black could care less about Ishgard's victory (thought that was a great point to care about) because the relieved, incredulous and incredibly happy look on Emmanellain's face was enough to rouse him to cheers.

"Victory!" Aymeric all but screamed in joy and all arms raised to the sky in cheers. Shouts and clamors from the gates walls resounded as kerchiefs were thrown, comrades were kissed, and the families of the fighters made like fools celebrating in the snow. Black among them.

For the first time in a long time, he felt blessed. For the first time in a long time, he was home.

* * *

Hoary's eyes misted and he did not halt the tear that fell from the corner of his eye. He always told the children that emotion was not a sign of weakness, but of a great rousing strength that blessed the wielder with great power. Now it was no different, though he had long lost the audience the movement was intended for. Higiri's soft breathing flickered in time with the dying candle light.

The door creaked open and Coultenet's sleepy head poked through, looking puzzled as to his current locale.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. The forward scouts have returned. The night is won! There are a few injured to prepare for, but it looks like everyone is coming home."

Hoary smiled.

Victory indeed.


End file.
